


Homecoming

by Ellepige



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Child Murder, Disturbing Themes, Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location, Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes, Gore, Graphic Description, Michael Afton (mentioned), Other, Pre-Canon, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 22:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellepige/pseuds/Ellepige
Summary: "You will not die."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reddobastard](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Reddobastard).



> Before you read: Please be aware of the tags. It's going to be ugly. 
> 
> Soo... I recently read the novel "The silver eyes" and I felt like maybe it deserved a bit more gore to go with the general direction of the series. So here you go, my take on what might have happened to William before the events of the book. It's vague and entirely my take on things, so it may or may not be canon-compliant.  
> I listened to Omnia's "Toys in the attic" while writing this.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Don't worry. Don't worry, Daddy. You will not die."  
The steps of the night guard were loud in the silent darkness of the place, his breath sounded laboured and short.  
"I don't want to hurt you," they crooned, using her voice again. "I need you to fix me. You can fix me, right, Daddy? I'm sure you can. Just listen to me. Follow my voice."  
He knew where they were headed. He knew how dangerous it was. That the ghosts, or souls, or whatever it was that remained of his victims were still there, hidden away in this locked-up cellar, behind cobwebs and welded-up doorways. But it was her voice, a thing he'd recognize anywhere. It was as if he followed a missing piece of himself.

"I'm so glad you're here. You can make us whole again." And the man nodded, his silver eyes half lidded as he tried to focus on the vague silhouette of the puppet in front of him. Yes. He would fix her and subsequently himself in the process. A lopsided grin was etched into his gaunt features as he opened the door to the scooping room. There were spare parts strewn across the floor, mangled limbs and shattered faces, scrap and metal pieces that glinted in the light of the flashlight. He stepped closer, moving without fear. This had been his workplace once, he knew every corner of the building. He knew the purpose of this room. Twisted cables slithered across the floor, glass eyes watched the man as he walked around, picking up the pieces of his old creations.  
"Mikey was right," they exclaimed gleefully. "He said you'd come. We miss him, but he promised he'd come and meet us when we're free. He's just hiding right now. Do you think he got tired, Daddy?" The longer Ennard spoke, the more garbled and glitched sounded their voice. The humming of minds that were once seperate entities, but weren't anymore. Faraway memories. Fear, hatred, revenge.  
"Do you think he's scared of you, Daddy? He knows what you did. We know what you did. You left us here."

The button that activated the scooping mechanism wasn't hard to push. Not with fingers that were made of cold, hard metal. Not with the childlike curiousity about what would happen next. The sharp spoon moved quickly, dug into William's skin under his navel and for a moment, the lithe body was pushed upards, a parody of Ballora's graceful dance as the long legs kicked into the air, searching for footing but finding none. The night guard's shoulders rested against rubberised metal, designed not to scratch the casing, but offering little comfort against the work the machine did with precision. They all had felt its touch before. The fabric of William's uniform tore and so did his skin. The man screamed, panic set in and made his pupils shrink. Ennard watched, dared to step closer as the scoop slid under its victim's abdominal membrane, pulling up and up and up. With a wet sound, the cavity finally bloomed open, thick loops of intestine tumbled down, staining the dark pants. William coughed up blood, and as his body sunk forward he wasn't able to stand, instead, his boots slid over the floor beneath them, spreading the stain of bodily fluids. The machine travelled further, scratching against his spine, cutting though his lungs. Ribs gave way with a dry snap. Their murderer's body was lean, haggard even. But there would be enough room for them, it would work out once all his ugly guts were out and spilled on the checkered tiles. "Don't worry. You will not die," they repeated, no longer trying to keep up the masquerade.

Finally, the scoop pulled back and William collapsed on the ground. They didn't know, couldn't tell with their metal skin, but he was probably still warm, his heart beating as fast as theirs did back then, but he wasn't afraid as they recalled they'd been. Instead, the thin lips were pulled into a soft smile, the silver eyes that still haunted their rare and fragmented dreams stared past them. Robotic appendages brushed away the slick guts and the blood-soaked fabric. Ennard took a moment to watch their future home, the prominent hipbones and the scarce pubic hair that was tacky and wet right now, the small indentation of its jugular. One open hand with bony fingers. They still twitched. The flashlight had fallen from them and onto the ground, the stark contrast of the shadows that danced on William's face gave him an almost eerie look. Half the shy, soft spoken man that lured them away, half the smiling monster that cut them apart. It seemed so fitting. Ennard sighed, then they spread the wound a little further and nestled up against the dying man's ribs. Their arms pierced the flesh of his limbs as their minds merged. As no longer shaking fingers pushed the wound's seams together, William understood that he would not die, indeed. His body would, soon enough, but that was no longer an issue.


End file.
